


From which stars have we fallen

by curiosa



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angel, Jim's p.o.v, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiosa/pseuds/curiosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim doesn't know if it's possible to fall in love with someone who leaves behind a trail of empty styrofoam cups and unread books, but he's starting to believe it could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From which stars have we fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sweethearts challenge over on lj.

There are rules to this sort of thing, Jim learns, that you can live beside somebody for weeks at a time, learning their routine and following their every movement, listening to when they cry and when they laugh, but you can never be a part of it. You can't touch them, can't speak to them, can't even hold them properly if they need it.

He realises this the first time he sees Leonard McCoy with his hands deep inside a man's ribcage. Watching the way that his eyes dim as the electrical current floods through the man's heart and fails to re-start it. He tries two times longer than he should, steadfast and stubborn as the rest of his team back away and start to discretely tidy away various instruments. 

They've given up but Leonard refuses to.

It's the way that he keeps going that keeps Jim watching, standing still in place. Willing this man to live with every inch of him, the line of his jaw tense, teeth gritted. His back a bent curve as he leans over his patient, willing him to take one more breath. 

He doesn't and eventually even Leonard McCoy has to give in, taking two steps back and wilting in place, smearing a splash of blood across his forehead. 

Another angel turns up to guide away the patient and Jim turns to leave, pressured moment over, but not before sweeping his touch across Leo's broad shoulders, allowing his eyes to clear for just a split second, giving him the space once again to breathe.

-

Leonard McCoy keeps his cutlery in the drawer next to the sink, and his mugs and glasses in the cupboard above the coffee filter. He likes his coffee almost black, no sugar and with just a splash of milk, and he's worth absolutely nothing if he doesn't get his fix first thing in the morning. He keeps a book by the bedside table and every night he tries to read a page, exhaustion clouding over him like a thick smog before he gives up on the same page and returns the book back to the table. He walks around barefoot in his apartment and the moment that he starts to get cold he'll shove his feet underneath a cushion. 

He rings his mother every week, at the exact same time every Friday. His voice turning thick as he speaks to her, consonants softening with his accent. Repeating the same old mantra that yes, he is taking care of himself, yes he promises that just as soon as he can he'll visit. He doesn't.

At the end of a bad day he'll pour himself a bourbon, letting it sit on the side until the one chunk of ice has finally melted. Before tossing it back and baring his throat, letting the warm burn flow all the way down to his stomach. 

He spends his free time mostly working extra shifts at the hospital.

Jim doesn't know if it's possible to fall in love with someone who leaves behind a trail of empty styrofoam cups and unread books, but he's starting to believe it could be.

-

An angel can't bleed. Jim understands this, knows it to be true, but he's still clutching a wad of balled up tissues to his forehead, pressing them against the patch of his skin that right this very second bleeds freely.

“You shouldn't have crossed the road,” Leo chastises him. Wandering around his apartment in search of his medical kit. It's underneath the kitchen sink, Jim wants to say, left there a week ago from when Leo cut one of his fingers chopping onions.

Jim nods his head, obedient, grinning from ear to ear as Leo rolls his eyes right back at him.

“It was just a goddamn piece of paper, there was no need to act like a super hero trying to catch up with me.” His tone is gruff but he's soft when he removes Jim's hand. Fingers fragile as he presses at the skin and tries to wipe away the grime and dirt that surround it.

“You're lucky you didn't end up worse than with just a bump on your noggin.” Up this close Jim can smell the scent of his aftershave, something with citrus and a hint of spice to it, the faintest trace of antibacterial products left behind from the hospital where he works. 

He takes a second to look at Jim, catching his eye as he softly dabs cream onto his forehead. He's got eyes the colour of a forest, Jim thinks, a whorl of deep brown and green asking him to explore further and deeper. 

“If I didn't know any better I'd say somebody up there took a liking to you.”

Jim starts laughing. 

Leonard doesn't appreciate the irony of who he's speaking to.

-

“We can't bleed.” Hikaru tells him.

And Jim wants to say, I know that, but he saw the blood as dark as wine coating the pads of his fingers. He wants to say they shouldn't feel anything either, but Jim spends any spare second lost in thoughts of Leonard McCoy. He feels something.

“A girl saw me once,” Hikaru says. “I was taking away her grandfather. She told me to take care of him and I did.”

“Why do you think she saw you?”

Hikaru waits a beat before replying. “I think she needed to see me.”

Jim nods. He can't think of a reason that Leonard needed to see him. If anything it had been Jim's choice to step out onto the road like that. It had been up to him to make that decision.

“You know who you should speak to.”

Jim nods once again, the only angel he's ever known to make their own decision.

-

It starts simple with small touches. The back of his hand, the line of his shoulder, the curve of a bicep, the small of his back.

The first time Leo kisses him, Jim feels lost. A flood of emotions hitting him full force until he closes his eyes against the weight of them. Alone in the darkness all he can feel is the weight of Leo's hand heavy against his waist, fingers slipping onto the bare skin of his hip, lightning racing through his skin at the touch, his chest burning. His other hand tight against the back of Jim's head, fingertips dancing over the top of his spine, delicately holding him. 

He kisses him twice, mouth sliding up to Jim's ear, his breath warm as he huffs out a small laugh. “I've wanted to do that for a really long time.”

Jim spreads his hand across the top of Leo's chest, right where his heat beats and Jim can feel it. Strong and healthy, hummingbird fast as Jim grins. “I've been waiting forever.”

-

“Jim.”

Uhura turns around, hands on her hips, levelling a look at him. She's got a smudge of flour on her cheek and her hands and the front of her shirt are dusted in it. It's a complete contrast to the last time Jim saw her, clothes always impeccable, her hair always straight and neat, smooth lines and no edges.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her tone's got a sarcastic edge to it, but Jim can hear the warmth behind the words, see the welcoming smile for what it is. Her look turns to one of concern when she sees him, hand reaching out to take a hold of his wrist, it pulls her shirt tight to reveal the bump of her stomach, proof if any that Uhura made the right choice. “Spock's in the other room,” she says, “Talk.”

“It was instinct.” He says and Uhura levels a look at him. Instinct, which isn't comprehensive to an angel but completely human instead. He tells her about Leo, the way he makes him feel, how when he isn't with him all he feels his numb. 

“Do you miss it?” He asks, fear creeping out through his words.

Uhura pauses, hands curling instinctively around the swell of her belly. “I miss the music. The voices, but...”

Jim waits, breathing quietly in the silence. Uhura casts a look back to the room where Spock's sitting, the man she chose to give everything up for.

“I know I'd miss Spock more if I hadn't.”

-

He walks out into the traffic.

His left side gets clipped first, his leg buckling as he feels it snap. His mouth yawning open in a silent scream that he can feel building up in pressure inside of his head. Tires squeal out in protest on the tarmac and Jim feels everything pull to a stop. A bubble of silence holding him in place as he watches people turn and start running, yelling at him soundlessly as others start to make calls with shaking hands. 

He can feel something wet and sticky dripping down his face and he thinks of Leo, closing his eyes as his heart beats once, twice and then -

-

The pain hits him, crippling in its force. The rush of blood sounds in his ears and as he comes to there's a beeping noise loud above all else. He tries to sit up and a hand pushes him back softly. “You couldn't possibly be any more of an idiot.”

Jim can feel his heart beat, his blood flow, every single ache and pain in his body. When he opens his eyes, Leonard's waiting patiently above him. “How do you feel?”

Jim takes a moment, wriggling his toes and his fingers, trying to shift inch by inch. “Awful,” he croaks out, grinning.

“Well you're smiling so clearly the meds we put you on must be working.” He starts listing everything Jim's done to himself, all the broken or fractured bones, the torn muscles, the parts of Jim that prove he's human. It's only when he's finished that Jim notices the wet sheen to his eyes, the hand that's holding his chart quietly shaking, the shadows beneath his eyes that show he's not been sleeping.

“Leo?”

“You died, you know,” He slumps down onto the bed and runs a hand over his face, scruffing his hair up in the process. “Don't ever-”

Leo doesn't get a chance to finish because Jim stops the words, pressing his mouth against Leo's and curling his hand around the back of his neck to pull him in closer. His stomach pulls at the stretch and his leg itches, but he ignores the numbed ache of pain in order to haul himself closer, wanting to touch every inch of skin of Leo that's available, to prove that this is what he can do now, any time that he wants, this is what he chooses.

He pulls back. “You saved me, right?”

Leo breathes into the space of his neck, pulling up to look at Jim and press their foreheads together.

Leo shakes his head. “Of course I did. They might like you up there but somebody down here needs you.”


End file.
